


Fulcrum

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Double Penetration, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot, Polyamory, Porn Battle, Threesome, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how Sam bonds with an angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fulcrum

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to [Calling Dibs](http://archiveofourown.org/works/56713).

0

For a long time, Sam doesn’t know where he stands with Castiel. He knows that the angel would die for Dean, and he’d supposedly said that one time that he’d die for Sam as well, but he can’t be sure whether that promise is actually for _Sam_, or due to Sam’s inseparability from Dean.

Sam wouldn't bet on the former.

So it’s a strange thing when one day, when Sam is out getting food, he turns the corner and almost runs right into Cas.

Sam flails, trying not to drop his paper bags, though Castiel merely stands there like he’s been waiting for this and will not be deterred by a ruined breakfast.

“Uh, hi?” Sam offers tentatively.

“I owe you an apology,” Castiel says. Sam doesn’t know him well enough to read his expression, but he has the vague feeling that the blank face is deliberate instead of automatic. “I have said some wrong, hurtful things to you in the past, and I’m sorry.”

“Did Dean make you do this?” Sam sighs.

“Yes.” Castiel can be annoyingly obtuse at times; embarrassingly upfront at others. “But it is right that I do this. Dean was correct in reminding me of my error.”

“So he shouted at you until you promised to apologize.” Sam starts to wave him off – this is awkward enough – but Cas takes two brisk steps sideways, blocking his exit.

“I am alone, Sam,” Castiel says.

That makes Sam look at him, and he’s reminded why Dean always complains about Castiel’s unnatural thousand-watt stare. Sam can already feel his eyes watering in sympathy. “Uh…?”

“I am cut off from Heaven,” Castiel clarifies. “For the first time in my existence, I am alone. I don’t know if you can understand what it means to be alone after knowing a great, all-encompassing love all your life. The emptiness it leaves behind is overwhelming, and I… haven’t dealt with it well. I don’t know how. So sometimes I take it out on others – on _you_. But that doesn’t make it right. If you would accept my apology, I’d be very grateful.”

It has been so long since Sam has been around people who aren’t emotionally stunted, so for a moment he doesn’t know how to respond. “Oh. Um. I accept your apology.”

Castiel nods, and for a moment looks almost awkward, like it actually cost him something to make that confession. “Thank you, Sam.”

Sam blinks at the empty space where Castiel was standing, wondering why _he_ feels off-balance.

* * *

0.5

It changes after that.

Castiel has always acknowledged him before, but now when he nods in Sam’s direction, there’s something pleased in the gesture – how Sam knows this, he has no idea – and Sam finds himself almost always smiling back in response. Dean doesn’t notice this, of course, because he’s Dean, and he spends most of Castiel’s drop-in time arguing with and/or trying to introduce Castiel to the finer points of human living.

It’s when Dean starts waxing poetic about Scarlett Johansson in leather that Sam finds himself finally speaking up.

“Maybe he’s just not interested, Dean,” he says. “It’s not a bad thing to be angelic, you know.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You really gonna say that knowing the dicks with wings we’ve met so far?”

Sam flushes, but when his eyes skirt sideways, he catches Castiel’s look of surprise. It’s not often there’s open emotion on the angel’s face – at least, not while Sam’s around, since Dean spends more time with him and all – so Sam finds himself staring back. Dean’s already back on his commentary of Sienna Miller and Michelle Pfeiffer’s own forays with leather, but Castiel isn’t listening to him.

Sam offers a shaky, uncertain smile, and is rendered completely breathless when Cas responds in kind.

That soft curve of his mouth, just for Sam.

“I will be going now, Dean,” Cas says. “There is work to be done.”

“What? Your loss,” Dean says, not even looking up from the screen.

Cas nods at Sam before he leaves.

Sam doesn’t breathe normally for a long time after.

* * *

1

Sam doesn’t scream when Castiel poofs into existence next to him, which is a good thing because he’d like to not be kicked out of library before he can finish his research.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Castiel whispers, immediately lowering himself down to pick up the books Sam had dropped.

Sam joins him, feeling huge and clumsy next to the elegant efficiency of Castiel’s movements in gathering the books – maybe he was a librarian in Heaven? “It’s okay.”

Castiel stops and looks at him. There is the same touch of surprise in his gaze, followed by surprising warmth. “You are so different from Dean. He always insults me when I visit.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam says awkwardly. “You can’t help what you are, or how you travel.” He has to look away when that soft smile returns to Castiel’s mouth.

“You are doing research,” Cas says suddenly, looking at the books they have gathered. “I will help you.”

Sam should say no. There is something dangerous poking at the edges of Sam’s thoughts: something restless and hungry and _wrong_.

“Sure,” Sam says, because it’s hard to break the habit of making bad decisions.

And it _is_ a bad decision, because as they sit next to each other at the table, going through one tome after another, Sam feels the nerves and jitters that had been accumulating since their last meeting rising up to an unexpected fever pitch now that they’re breathing the same air again. Sam doesn’t know what this is, or where it came from, or why it makes it so hard to breathe when it didn’t even _exist_ a short time ago.

Cas is reading Ancient Armenian in a soft voice, pronunciation clear as a bell, when Sam realizes that he’s hard.

He almost laughs at that, because Sam Winchester apparently does not know how to want another person unless it’s tainted with wrong or the person would be doomed by their association with him.

“Sam?” Cas has stopped reading and is now looking straight at him – _through _him. Despite the danger, Sam can’t help but look back, a stray thought in his head wondering idly how the fuck Dean has not completely lost himself in those unearthly blues.

“Sorry, Cas, I…” Sam shifts away, but freezes when Castiel reaches out and touches his hand.

“It’s all right, Sam,” Cas says. “It isn’t wrong to covet.”

“It _is_,” Sam hisses, too angry to be ashamed at having being found out. Of course it’s wrong, he’s _broken,_ and he didn’t even have to make a deal or go to hell to get there.

“Stop,” Cas says, eyes narrowed fiercely.

He touches two fingers to Sam’s forehead and they’re outside, in the narrow space tucked between the library and a neighboring post office. Sam exhales a shaky breath that only comes out as a telling groan, and then Cas is rising up to urgently catch his mouth.

* * *

2

“Can you stop moping for two minutes and help me out?” Dean says.

It’s only easy teasing but it grates at Sam anyway, his temper flaring like an angry red welt deep inside. “It’s _your_ baby, so you keep telling me, so why should I have to help?”

“Man, who spit in your salad today?” Dean says, giving him a sideways glance as he walks past. “Fine. Gimme a call when you’re over your PMS.”

“Fuck you,” Sam mutters, keeping his head down as Dean shuts the door behind him.

He doesn’t mean to take it out Dean, but his head keeps replaying what he did with Cas – with _Castiel_, Angel of the Lord – out in an alleyway like some cheap encounter. He doesn’t need more shame atop the lot he already has, so why _oh why_ does he keep doing this to himself?

“Sam,” Castiel says.

“No!” Sam jumps to his feet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I sincerely hope you did,” Cas says gravely. “For _I_ meant it, and it would be awkward for me if you didn’t.”

Sam covers his face, which is burning. “You don’t understand.”

“I think that in this case it is _you_ who doesn’t understand,” Castiel protests.

“No, no, you _really_ don’t understand,” Sam laughs, a little hysterically. “You’re an _angel_. I’m… Fuck, I was _bred for Lucifer_.”

“So you have been told,” Castiel says, “But it does not mean that that is your destiny. I believe there is a reason that it is you and Dean who hold the fate of the world.”

“Please don’t say things like that,” Sam begs.

“My brother, Gabriel,” Cas continues, “Once made the comparison that you and Dean are to Lucifer and Michael. The analogy is apt, except for what the outcome must be. Our Father would not have chosen the two of you for these roles if _who_ you are were not important. It could have been anyone in all the millennia of all Earth’s existence, but it is the two of you, and your love for each other, that will ensure your success where Michael and Lucifer failed. You are exactly who you’re meant to be, Sam, and I have faith in you.”

Sam doesn’t deserve this sort of faith from an angel, not after everything he’s done and everything he still is. His feet are frozen but he’s shattered and shaking, and it takes Castiel wrapping firm fingers around his wrists and pulling them down that Sam is forced to meet the truth in his gaze.

“You shouldn’t,” Sam says. “I’ve messed up _so much_.”

“So have I,” Cas admits sadly. “But I must believe in my Father’s forgiveness, for I can’t accept a world where you will not have it.”

Sam bends down to kiss him, Cas meeting him halfway with a grateful sigh. Sam ends up pushing Cas to the wall and taking him again, this time slow and aching, and Cas kisses his eyes when he comes.

* * *

3

Dean is trying to teach Castiel to eat. He keeps trying to do that, despite Cas’ insistence that he doesn’t need sustenance and doesn’t process taste the same way humans do, but when Dean gets what he thinks is a clever idea, it’s hard for him to let go.

Today it’s spaghetti on the menu, and Dean is having a great time watching Cas mess up and splatter sauce all over his shirt.

It’s so rare that Dean laughs like this, the smile all the way up to his eyes, so Sam is perfectly content to watch quietly from the seat opposite them, basking in the warmth of the moment. Cas is smiling as well, indulgent and pleased to bring some joy – no matter how brief – to their table.

“Hey, you got some…” Dean points, and when Cas just looks at him blankly, he reaches out and swipes a thumb at the sauce on Cas’ chin.

Sam has to look down; it’s been a long time since Dean did that for _him_.

When Sam glances up, Dean is still looking fondly at Cas, who is making another attempt to wrap spaghetti on his fork. In still amazes Sam how these two bright, passionate stars are drawn to each other – revolving close, closer, _even closer_, but not touching. Sam fell into Cas’ pull so quickly once given the chance, while Dean belongs to another set of Sam’s demons, locked and shut away where no one can see.

It’s dangerous to think about such things now, in the light of day where there’s the chance that something might leak, so Sam quickly excuses himself to the men’s room where he can collect his thoughts.

He’s there for maybe twenty seconds before Cas joins him, pushing him into a stall and locking the door.

“Cas,” Sam gasps, horrified that he’s been found out again.

“I told you before that it is not wrong to covet,” Cas whispers, head tilted up so their mouths brush as he speaks. “I was not lying.”

Sam’s eyes go wide. “You can’t mean… You _can’t_.”

“I see no shame in loving Dean,” Cas says, flicking a tongue across Sam’s mouth in a dangerous tease that has Sam shivering. “He is infuriatingly easy to love.”

“But I’m…” Sam swallows the word, because he can’t even say it. “It’s not….”

“It _is_,” Cas growls low. “It is your love for Dean that makes you better than Lucifer, so don’t you _ever_ shy away from it.”

Cas only has to put a warm hand on Sam’s crotch and he’s falling apart, overwhelmed by the naked acceptance in Cas’ voice that makes him feel for the first time that he’s worth saving.

* * *

4

The shower is a tight fit, but they manage somehow.

It’s only after Sam comes that he remembers that Dean is outside watching tv. The volume is up pretty loud, and Sam knows it’s because Dean thinks he’s having some personal time in here.

Sam catches Cas’ eye while he gathers his scattered clothes from the floor.  “I have to tell Dean. About this.”

Cas nods. “Yes.”

* * *

5

Dean’s mad when Sam tells him.

The look of disgust on Dean’s face makes Sam want to crawl into a hole somewhere and just die already.

It undoes everything he’s nurtured with Cas over the past two and a half weeks, casting every word and moment they’ve shared as something sordid. Though Sam can’t blame Dean for his reaction, he just wishes that he wouldn’t direct that anger at Cas. Sam has felt the love of an angel, and it’s glorious and cleansing in a way that Sam has never known, and it sucks that Dean would make such a beautiful thing sound so ugly. _Sam’s_ the weak one, the one who _covets his brother_ and somehow found the emotional space to _covet his brother’s angel as well_, like that the first one wasn’t bad enough.

Sam thinks he’s got the reasons figured out: “Does it really matter what he is?” he asks Dean. “What his vessel’s shape is?”

Then there’s a second where Dean’s anger slips, and his face is an open, broken thing. Sam’s seen that look before but never in a million years thought he’d see it again, and it’s enough to make Sam dizzy, barely able to claw at its true meaning.

Sam opens his mouth, ready to tell Dean that just because he’s with Cas doesn’t mean they’re going to _leave_ him, but then Cas arrives.

Dean spits and snarls, but Cas faces him, unflinching, and then kisses him.

Sam gasps, his own lips tingling at the sight like he’s right there with them. He has to look away, after, hoping it hides his years of yearning from Dean’s curious gaze, the only shame in the moment being that Cas is the brave one, saying what Sam can’t.

“It would honor me, as it would honor Sam if you let us show you how loved you are,” Cas says, laying them before Dean’s mercy.

Cas has the words the Winchester brothers don’t have, and if Sam weren’t sure before, he knows that he loves him now.

The moment Dean accepts them, something old and scared flies free from the confines of Sam’s chest.

The three of them fall to bed, Dean uncertain and, funnily enough, pissed that he isn’t the one calling the shots. Dean sits back and watches while Sam opens Cas up and pushes into him, green eyes more intense than usual while they study every detail.

When Sam’s sure he won’t be able to come because he’s too self-conscious, Cas reaches out and takes Dean’s hand, putting it on Sam’s hip, and that touch burns so hot on Sam’s skin that he comes harder than he ever has in his entire life.

Dean looks pleased, after, and that’s more than Sam had ever dared to hope.

While Dean takes his turn to fuck Cas, Sam presses up to the angel’s side and kisses his thanks.

“I am the one who’s blessed, Sam,” Cas says, smiling as he comes.

* * *

6

Cas makes good on his promise, though to be honest Sam wasn’t sure if he was serious about taking them both at the same time. They don’t need that, but Cas brings it up the very next time.

“I want this,” Cas says, rolling over on to his back. “If you are uncomfortable, Dean, I understand.”

“Hey, I’m not uncomfortable,” Dean says quickly, moving into the space between Cas’ legs. “Whatever you want, I’m game.”

“This isn’t a game of who has the biggest balls, Dean,” Sam says.

“Of course,” Dean replies, “Because if it were, I’d win.”

“Dean, just get inside me, please,” Cas says, lifting his hips restlessly. “We don’t have to do that now if we’re not ready.”

“Whatever you say,” Dean says as he slides in.

It’s a strong, sinuous movement and Sam cannot look away from it. Sam knows that he can come from merely watching them; it’s hard enough not touching himself when they do this, but it’s just so _beautiful_ that Sam has to rock along with it, pressing his own erection to the mattress to relieve some of the pressure.

“Okay, what do I do?” Dean asks, pausing the roll of his hips.

“You need to stretch me further around you,” Castiel says. “With your fingers, one at a time, please.”

Sam watches Dean do it but he doesn’t quite believe that it’s _actually_ going to happen until Cas tells Dean to rise up on to his knees, lifting Cas up with him, legs obscenely wide.

“Okay, Sam, you’re up,” Dean says.

Sam just stares for a while until Dean swears at him to _move, dammit_, and then he’s scooting forward, awkwardly arranging himself low behind Dean and finding the right angle between Dean’s legs.

Dean jerks suddenly at the slide of Sam’s cock below his balls, and Sam pulls back, ready to apologize, when Dean growls, “_Today_, Sam, or Cas is going to kick your fucking ass, just _look at him_.”

Sam does, and _fuck_, Cas’ face has the most blissed out expression he’s ever seen.

“Sam,” Cas groans. “Now, please.”

It’s going to hurt, it _has_ to hurt, but Sam bites his lip and presses his dick next to Dean’s – both of them groan at the touch– and then pushes _in_.

Cas’ eyes are wide open, whole body shaking.

“We can’t,” Sam tries to shift, but it’s just awkward, the fit too tight. “I don’t think we can get deep.”

“I don’t think it matters at this point,” Dean says thickly. “Let’s just…”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees.

For all of Cas’ helpful instructions earlier, he’s now completely useless, crying out his pleasure to the night while Dean and Sam fill him up to burning. There is no rhythm to what they’re doing but that doesn’t seem to matter, it’s _magnificent, _Sam and Dean side by side while Cas keeps them together.

When Dean shifts a hand from Cas’ hip to touch Sam’s shoulder, Sam thinks he just might cry, who the fuck cares whether Dean teases him for it later. It’s _just that good_, and Sam can’t help but press his face to Dean’s back, kissing the skin and feeling like the luckiest bastard in the world when Dean moans at the touch, the first Sam’s been allowed so far but a definite promise for more, and Cas, somehow knowing that via his mysterious angel ways, squeezes down on them both.

“I love you.” Sam only has enough courage to make it a whisper, knowing that Dean won’t hear over Cas’ screaming.

**Author's Note:**

> Read the follow up: [Not Normal (So What Else Is New?)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/58385)


End file.
